Mrs Collins' Lover Page 14

  A blush covered Fitz’s cheeks. “Forgive me, Cousin. I asked Genie if she knew what afflicted Elizabeth.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “She said it was a womanly concern. I assumed she meant her courses, but Genie went on to complain of men who cared only for their own satisfaction.” His voice fell away.

  Feeling ill once more, Darcy fell into the nearest seat and rested his head in his hands.

  “Genie said that if he continues to assault her in this manner, it is doubtful she will conceive.”

  “And Lady Catherine will continue to berate her.”

  “I am sorry, Cousin.”

  Darcy waved him away. Though he hesitated, Fitz soon turned and left, closing the door behind him. Nelson entered the room and approached Darcy.

  “I have requested hot water for a bath, sir.”

  “Thank you, Nelson.” He rested his head against the back of the seat and stared at the ceiling.

  “Will there be anything else, sir?” the valet eventually asked.

  “A device to recall time,” Darcy mumbled.

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Nothing. Nothing else.”

  *CHAPTER ELEVEN*

  Elizabeth leaned against a tree, her bonnet dangling from one hand, as she stared across the meadow. Her attention was divided this morning. An ear was trained upon the Rosings path in hopes Mr. Darcy would appear once more, but the pain from the area between her legs drew most of her focus. Mrs. Martin’s oils had provided some relief the previous week and she had managed to accompany her husband to tea at Rosings that evening. However, the exercise had not been overly beneficial, and she had used most of the oil the following morning. A drop Saturday evening before Mr. Collins’ visit had earned his displeasure and yesterday found her in a similar situation so she had used the remainder leaving none for this morning. Indeed, it was only her desperate need which allowed her to be here now.

  “You are lost in thought.”

  A smile spread quickly across her countenance at the sound of his soft voice. She had not heard him approach, but he had managed to do so without startling her. Elizabeth gathered her thoughts, unsure what to say to him, and pushed away from the tree with a slight grimace.

  “Are you unwell?” He was closer now, so close she could smell the soap his valet used to shave him and the masculine cologne he applied afterward.

  “I will be well,” she finally managed and continued before he could ask anything more. “Have you determined when you will leave Rosings?”

  “Do you wish for solitude in the mornings?” He cleared his throat. “I thought, over the past week, you might have begun to change your mind. Do you still feel indisposed toward me?”

  Elizabeth considered his question and chose to speak plainly. “I fear my sanity now hinges upon your presence, sir. I have come to respect your intelligence more than I had in Hertfordshire. You are everything a gentleman should be.” She smiled as she looked at him from the corner of her eye. “I have even come to terms with your pride and arrogance.”

  “Arrogance?” Darcy’s hand rose to rest upon his chest as though he had been struck.

  Elizabeth became serious once more. “When you entered Meryton, you found little to please you.” She hesitated and looked away. “You declare feelings for me now, but there was a time I was only tolerable in your eyes. Not handsome enough to tempt you.”

  Darcy stepped closer until her shoulder brushed his chest. “I was so tempted by you I fled to London following the Netherfield ball.”

  Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat as his warmth surrounded her. She glanced about to confirm they were alone but did not step away.

  “I am still tempted by you, Elizabeth, even though I risk my very soul.” He lifted his hand, moving it toward her cheek, but he did not touch her. It lingered, so near, but not touching. “I know I should walk away, but I must know. Are you content?”

  Lost in the sensation of him being so near, and then to hear his question … Elizabeth laughed harshly. “Content?” She shook her head and wiped away a stray tear. “I no longer dream of contentment or even acceptance of my position, Mr. Darcy. My desire now is to fulfil my duties with some part of me intact.”

  His hand fell away as the other rose to rest on the small of her back, turning her just enough that he could study her face. “Has he hurt you?”

  She tried to look away, but he would not allow it.

  “Please.” His voice was soft and pleading. “I must know, though the very idea pierces my heart.” He took her hands in his and held them gently.

  “It is part of Eve’s curse, sir. A wife must endure it as reparation for the sin which entered the world through her. In return, we have security,” she swallowed, “and children.”

  Suddenly she was in his arms, one hand pressed firmly against her back while the other held her head to his chest. “Eve’s curse is the pain of childbirth, Elizabeth. A wife should be treasured and cherished by her husband.” He kissed the top of her head. “Would that I were your husband, you would know the joys of the marriage bed.”

  Elizabeth pressed a hand against his chest and managed to lift her head, but not to free herself of him completely. “You are not my husband, sir, and we must not be seen in this posture.”

  Their eyes held, hers pleading until he slowly lowered his gaze to her lips. She began to tremble as he leaned forward, his lips meeting hers, brushing gently across her own. When a sigh escaped her, he claimed her lips completely, passionately, until she went limp in his arms. He pulled back, but she clung to his lapels, unable to support her own weight.

  “Forgive me.” He brushed a light kiss across her lips once more and stepped back, still holding her until she found her footing.

  “No, Mr. Darcy.” She smoothed her hair and replaced her bonnet. “I am at fault. I should not have come. I …”

  “You are not at fault, Elizabeth.” He took a step toward her, but this time she stepped away. His voice lowered. “I cannot bear to see you this way.”

  He fell silent, but she was unable to speak.

  “Have you made the acquaintance of the Widow Abernathy?”

  Elizabeth looked at him quizzically. His voice had changed, as though a decision had been made. “No.” She suppressed a smile, wondering what had brought him to this topic at this time. “I understand she does not think well of Mr. Collins.”

  “No,” Darcy chuckled. “I cannot imagine she would.” He took her hand and placed it upon his arm, turning her toward the path leading to the parsonage. “She does not seem to suffer fools gladly.” He laid his other hand over hers, caressing it as he spoke. “Have you visited her?”

  “No. As I am sure you are aware; Lady Catherine dislikes the woman, so I thought it best not to upset her or Mr. Collins.” She kept her gaze upon the path.

  “But as the rector’s … wife,” he stumbled over the word, “is it not right for you to visit members of the congregation, learn of their needs, and report them to Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine?”

  She looked at him, clearly understanding that there was more to his request than he was saying. “I suppose you are correct. I would not want the Widow Abernathy’s needs to go unaddressed due to my fear of displeasing my husband.”

  “And you know the way?” Darcy asked, his voice suddenly ripe with eagerness.

  “I believe so.”

  “Perhaps I could meet you, here, to-morrow morning, and accompany you. Colonel Fitzwilliam has recently introduced me to the lady. There is an understanding that we may visit at any time of day. They are … close.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed as her suspicions increased. “The Widow Abernathy is an elderly woman, sir. I do not understand what type of … relationship the Colonel might entertain with her.”

  “I believe she treats him like a son and dotes upon him.” He swallowed and glanced about. “Her daughter, who is also a widow, resides with her as companion and caregiver. Her late husband served under my cousin. She is also the local
midwife.”

  “Yes, I have been told.”

  Darcy’s hand tightened about hers causing a shiver to course through her. He seemed to be waiting for her to say more. Her heart beat so loudly she feared he might hear it. Finally, she found the courage to respond, but only in a whisper.

  “I suppose it would be best to meet prior to calling hours to allow us time to walk there.”

  She heard his breath rush from him, previously unaware he had been holding it. “I agree. Shall we say half past ten?”

  Elizabeth nodded, squeezed his arm, and tried to pull her hand from his. “I believe I shall leave you now, Mr. Darcy. You know we cannot be seen together.”

  Darcy bowed over her hand. “Until to-morrow, Madam.”

  “Until to-morrow,” Elizabeth replied as she curtseyed.

  To what did I just agree? Elizabeth wondered as she continued toward the parsonage. Her fingers touched her lips remembering Mr. Darcy’s kisses. Never had she been kissed in such a manner. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and she feared she might be ill. Am I entertaining what I believe he is suggesting? She stopped walking, certain she was out of sight of both the parsonage and Mr. Darcy and closed her eyes. With a hand pressed to her stomach, she replayed the morning in her mind.

  He loves me. She shook her head and began walking once more. She must not be gone when Mr. Collins awoke. Elizabeth increased her pace, slowly noticing that her pain had eased. The normal dryness between her legs which caused everything to stick and pull was not as noticeable. She entered the front door of the parsonage, lost in thought.

  “Where have you been, Elizabeth?”

  The harsh tone in his voice told her she had been gone longer than she thought. She searched for something that would be acceptable, but unverifiable. “I was not feeling myself this morning and realized it was because I had not stretched my legs as I have been accustomed to do. I know you dislike my walking about on my own, so I decided to take that little used path which leads to the graveyard. I noted a few stones which required tending and did what I could to set them right.”

  It was not a complete lie. She had indeed done these things, just not to-day. As Mr. Collins only visited the graves when necessary, she knew he would not recognize her deception.

  He eyed her suspiciously, but eventually nodded. “You should not go unattended, but there are none to be spared from the household. Perhaps you might befriend one of the young ladies of Hunsford to accompany you.”

  “What a good idea, Mr. Collins.” Elizabeth’s mind jumped upon the suggestion. “I was thinking, this morning, upon my role here. Is it not expected of the rector’s wife to visit those who are unable to attend services? How are you and Lady Catherine to know of their needs?”

  Mr. Collins cradled his chin in his hand as he considered her words. “It would be best if we both visited, do you not think? If they are missing services, I would be able to enlighten them upon what was said from the pulpit.”

  Elizabeth cast about for a reason he would be unable to disregard. “Perhaps some, but others, who may be ill and unable to … appreciate your words may be more receptive to a quiet serving visit.” She noted the look of horror which crossed his countenance and quickly continued. “Jane and I often visited the tenants at Longbourn to assist with children and notify Papa of things which must be addressed. I miss it.”

  A look of condescension filled Mr. Collins’ features and he reached out a hand, caressing the very cheek Mr. Darcy nearly touched a short time ago. Elizabeth fought the urge to flinch away from him.

  “My poor dear wife, are you homesick?”

  “I suppose I might be. The spring is always a time of great activity at Longbourn and I feel a bit at ends here. Perhaps if I visit the wives or widows, I might find someone to call friend.” She saw him begin to soften to the idea and decided to seal her fate. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I had thought to visit the Widow Abernathy and her daughter to-morrow morning.”

  His expression immediately hardened. “The Widow Abernathy may not be the best choice.”

  Elizabeth slipped a hand about his arm as she led him to the dining room. “I understand that she has not been overly friendly toward you, Mr. Collins, and Lady Catherine finds fault with her, but is there no allowance for age? I had decided upon her as Lady Catherine is the only inhabitant of our small village greater than she in status. She is a gentleman’s widow, sir. We must not neglect her. I can begin visiting the farmers’ and tradesmen’s families the following days.”

  Mr. Collins lowered himself into his chair at the head of the table, clearly considering her words. He seemed to need an added push, but Elizabeth did not wish to make him suspicious or anger him. She rang for Sarah to bring their breakfast and took her seat to his right. “Her daughter has attended services the last two Sundays. As a gentleman’s daughter, I would feel slighted should the rector’s wife visit those in labour before me.” She did not truly feel this way, but she knew Mr. Collins held beliefs in this area not keeping with his position.

  “You are right, of course, Elizabeth. Shall I accompany you?”

  He appeared to ask only out of decorum, and she was quick to relieve him of any sense of obligation. “To-morrow is Tuesday, Mr. Collins.”

  “Oh, how right you are, my dear.” He smiled as though relieved. “Just as you do not wish to offend the Widow Abernathy and her daughter, I could not possibly insult Lady Catherine by not attending her.”

  Elizabeth relaxed as Mr. Collins droned on about the latest plantings in his garden. Their breakfast arrived, and they ate in silence. When he pushed the plate away, she fixed a cup of tea for him. He accepted it, placing a peck upon her cheek, then left for his study where he could review his notes for the meeting with Lady Catherine.

  Elizabeth stared out the window as she drank her tea; once more wondering to what she had committed herself.

  ***********

  Darcy paced the pathway, checking his timepiece every third or fourth turn. It was only quarter after ten, but he had been unable to remain at Rosings a minute longer. When he heard that toad of a clergyman announced, he made his excuses and lit out of the room before the man could return upright from his bow. He had seen his cousin’s amused expression but cared not. Fitz knew what he was about. They had discussed it last night and word was sent to the Abernathy household to expect him this morning.

  He stopped his pacing as he stared in the direction of the widow’s home. Good G-d, what am I doing?

  “You are also early this morning, I see.”

  He turned to find Elizabeth, her bonnet in her hand, standing in a sunbeam that had fought its way through the spring foliage to catch the highlights in her hair and cause them to shine giving her a heavenly appearance. He was lost. Her smile slipped away at his continued silence and her head began to lower. Darcy was by her side in two strides, a finger under her chin stopping her from looking away from him.

  “I found the walls of Rosings too confining.” He smiled and took her hand, placing it upon his arm. “Shall we?”

  She blushed. “It is full early, is it not?”

  “We are expected, no matter the time.”

  Her eyes widened in fear and he quickly reassured her.

  “Fitzwilliam sent word and the household does not stand on ceremony. We will be welcomed, do not fear.”

  Elizabeth nodded and they walked along in silence for a time. Finally, as Darcy searched his mind for something to say, Elizabeth cleared her throat.

  “I must say, Mr. Darcy, I am not completely certain as to the reason for this visit or how we will be received.”

  “Will you not call me William? If you had not noticed, I have been calling you Elizabeth and you have not taken me to task over it.” He smiled, trying to put her at ease but she frowned.

  “Mr. Collins’ Christian name is William.”

  Darcy’s smile melted away. “And do you call him that?” he asked as he studied the trees they passed.

  “Heav
ens no!” she exclaimed, but quickly remembered herself. “I have called him nothing but Mr. Collins, nor do I intend to do so.”

  Darcy stopped and turned her toward him. “Then can I not be your William?”

  “My William?” Her eyes opened wide as she stared at him in wonder.

  He caressed her cheek, no longer caring who might see them. “You have my heart, Elizabeth. I could belong to no other.”

  Elizabeth glanced about and began walking, a tug to his arm signalling him to accompany her. They were within sight of the Abernathy estate when he heard her take a ragged breath. Darcy pressed her arm to his side so that she would look at him and he realized her eyes were filled with tears. He quickly led her off the path and into the trees before catching her up in his embrace.

  “Oh, my sweet girl, why are you crying? Please believe me when I say I mean you no harm.”

  “I … I …” Elizabeth shook her head and pulled away from him. “Oh!” she cried in frustration. “I am being foolish.” She looked at him, a few stray tears breaking free and running down her cheeks. “My mind keeps returning to your words from yesterday. That you are tempted by me, though you risk your very soul.” She shook her head and stepped away, turning her back to him. “I am beginning to realize that I must choose, but in doing so I lose, no matter my decision.”

  Darcy slipped his arms about her, drawing her back against his chest, and placed a kiss just behind her ear. “I fear I do not understand, my love.”

  Her hand crept up until it lay upon his cheek. “To-day I must sacrifice my soul or my heart. Either way, when I return to the parsonage, I will be half the woman I have been.”

  Darcy spun her in his arms until her face was less than an inch from his. “You are my heart. I cannot live without it. My soul will be dealt with on some distant day.” He claimed her lips and immediately noted her surrender. When he felt her shoulders relax, he ended the kiss and studied her. Removing his handkerchief from his breast pocket, he brushed away the traces of tears, then took her bonnet and placed it upon her head, tying the strings just so.